Searching for Cora Sue - 5 - Denver

September 26, 1910

We were very impressed as the taxi from the Denver Union Station dropped us off in front of the Brown Palace Hotel (pictured above). As we walked in the front doors, we heard the sounds of a piano and harp gently serenading us. I will now quote from the literature that we found in the lobby, in order to
make sure I get it all correct.

In 1888, businessman Henry Cordes Brown retained architect Frank E. Edbrooke to design an "unprecedented" hotel in the popular Italian Renaissance style on a triangular lot in downtown Denver. Four years and $1.6 million later, the Brown Palace opened at the intersection of 17th and Broadway.

Flanked by pillars and wainscoting of pale golden Mexican onyx, the red-Colorado-granite and-Arizona-sandstone lobby walls rise into an eight-story atrium that culminates in a stained-glass ceiling. More than 700 wrought iron grillwork panels ring the lobby from the third through the seventh floor. Two of them are upside down, one to serve the tradition that man, imperfect by nature, must put a flaw into his handiwork; the other was sneaked in by a disgruntled workman.

It has 400 guest rooms that rent from between $3 and $5 a night. (We had the more expensive room, one with morning light, but got a discount by booking for aweek, so we paid $25.) There
are two banquet halls, a ladies’ ordinary lounge, and a grand salon. The lobby houses a smoking room, a men’s bar, a ladies’ waiting room, and 18 stores.

The Brown Palace has the ability to treat weary travelers like royalty.  Teddy Roosevelt stayed here in 1905. He spoke to businessmen at an elaborate banquet held at the hotel where guests paid $10 to attend and more than 1,500 cigars were smoked. (This reminds me, I must tell Kate about Medora, which has now become known for President Teddy Roosevelt, and about our late friend, the Marquis de Mores.)
 

September 25, 1910

After a refreshing night’s sleep and a wonderful light breakfast (cereal with milk, and hot water with lemon for me), we set out to explore this remarkable city.

But first of all I wanted to get down to the business of finding Cora Sue. I had thought long and hard about how to do this, and decided to go to the Post Office. I would explain to someone that I was looking for relatives and ask if they could provide addresses for me to go around and see if the people mentioned were related to me, or knew anything about my relatives. It is located at 16th and Arapahoe Street - a large an impressive building. First of all we walked through Denver City Park, and I left Kate there, sitting on a bench, enjoying the sun and all the beautiful flowers still in bloom.

When I got inside the building, I asked to see the person in charge and was eventually directed to
someone I took to be an under manager in a back office. I explained my mission, and although he listened sympathetically, he said in firm tones that it was not their policy to give away any addresses. He was sorry, but he couldn’t help me.

When I got back, I found that Kate had been doing some research around the park, and had all sorts
of plans for how we could spend the rest of our days in Denver.

“There is the most wonder Museum of Science and Nature, and a Zoo - all right here in the park,” she said.

“I’ve been reading about when Denver was started in 1858, it was little more than a mining
camp. In 1882 this park was build in the tradition of both English pastoral gardens and Central Park in New York City. Have you ever been there?”

“Yes,” I said, “in 1880 when Cora Sue and I went on our trip to the New York Herald newspaper
office to find out more about our dad and what happened at the battle he was killed in.”

“I’d like to also go to the boat pavilion, if we have time, on Ferril Lake. I really enjoy sitting in a boat on a river. Sounds silly and romantic, I suppose. But enough about that, how did you get on?”
asked Kate.

“Not at all well. The man they sent me to see said it was against their rules to let out who lived
where. He wasn’t very friendly. I don’t know where to start now.”

“What about the telephone exchange?”

“They won’t have telephones.”

“You don’t know that. You could at least go and find out.”

So we asked for directions of a nearby policeman, and walked the several blocks to the Colorado
Telephone Company.

“Yes, can I help you?” asked the receptionist as we walked in the door.

“I need to contact a relative urgently, and I don’t know their phone number or address,” said Kate, taking over the role from me.

“Does your relative have a phone with us?” she asked.

“I think so,” was the reply.

“And what is your relative's name?”

Kate looked rather startled by being asked this, because she'd forgotten, so I took over.

“Clinton,” I said and spelled it out. She started to look in her book and obviously found several entries with that name.

“What is the first name?”

“Coralinn,” I said, hopefully.

“We don’t have a Coralinn as such, she said, “but we do have a C. Clinton, an M. Clinton, an N.
Clinton and a W. Clinton. I suppose that yours must be the C. Clinton. The number is 446.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Do you suppose we could have the numbers of the other Clintons in case this one is wrong,” asked
Kate quickly. “I mean she might have the phone registered in her husband’s name.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Okay. M is 243, N is 321 and W is 545. I hope you find your relative.”

“Thank you ever so much, Miss. You have been very helpful.”

And we walked out of the exchange with huge smiles on our faces.

“That was so good, Kate. I am so pleased you were with me to help. I probably would have had better luck at the Post Office if you had been with me.”

“We still have to find a telephone.”

“Oh, the hotel is bound to have one. Let’s go back there now.”

So we rushed back to our beautiful hotel, and ignoring our growing hunger pains as it was long
after 12, our normal lunch time, we asked the receptionist if there was a public phone we might use.

“Certainly. I will charge the calls to your hotel bill,” she replied. “It is just over there,” pointing us to a secluded area with a desk in the corner of the ladies’ lounge.

We both sat down, and I swallowed hard to try to calm my nerves. I picked up the phone and
asked the operator for 446. The phone rang and rang but there was no reply. “I’m sorry but your party is not answering,” said the operator.

“Please could you try another number for me?” I asked. “243.”

“Your number is ringing,” she said, although it was obvious.

“Hello,” said what I judged to be an elderly female voice. “Who is this?”

“Hello. You won’t know me, but I am in Denver looking for a relative of mine. Her last name is
Clinton, but I am not sure of her first name. Could you tell me if you are related to a man who owned a grocery store here back in 1880’s and 90’s - he was called Mr. Sydney Clinton and his wife
was called Coralinn. She was my aunt.”

“No, I am sorry. I didn’t live in this area at that time. I'm from Ohio. Sorry I can’t help,” and she hung up.

“Not her,” I said unnecessarily. I picked up the phone again to get the operator.

“Please can I have 321?”

“I am calling your party for you now.”

“Thank you.”

The phone rang several times and I was about to give up when it was answered. “Hello. Who is there?” said a gruff voice.

“This is Mrs. Temple. I am trying to locate relatives of mine who live in Denver by the name of
Clinton.”

“Who gave you this number?”

“The lady at the telephone exchange.”

“She had no right to do that,” and she slammed down the phone.

“I sure hope she isn’t my relative,” I said.

“Well, we still have another number to try, and then we can try the other one where no one
answered later on,” said Kate encouragingly.

So I picked up the phone to get the operator once more. “Please can I have 545?”

“I am trying to connect you,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said automatically.

This time the phone was answered by a man, and he seemed quite willing to talk to me. I briefly
explained who I was and who I was seeking.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” he said. “I went to their store for cigars. The best place in Denver
for cigars. He was a nice chap. Died quite young, as I remember. His wife was not up to running it herself so she went off someplace.”

“Do you remember where she moved to?”

“California seems to come into my mind. Los Angeles, I think. Just a minute, I’ll ask the wife.”

So I waited for a few minutes and then he came on the line again.

“The wife says definitely she and some of the kids went to Los Angeles. But she says the oldest boy stayed behind, but he didn’t take over the store. It was sold. The new owners weren’t nearly as good. I had to go someplace else for cigars after that.”

“Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Clinton. Your wife wouldn’t remember the first name of
the oldest boy by any chance, would she?”

Another long period of silence.

“She thinks it was Charlie - but she says he doesn’t live here anymore. He went to Utah or
someplace like that prospecting or something. He always was a loner and a bit of a funny one, if you know what I mean. I used to see him hanging around his dad’s store, not helping or anything. Just
hanging there - looking bored and useless. Kids in my day didn’t act like that or they got a swift kick up the behind. Anyway, he doesn’t seem to be here in Denver, no matter how useless he was. I
hope you find your relatives, Mrs. Temple.”

“Thank you so much, again, Mr. Clinton. We will keep trying. It is very important to me. Could I ask
you, if you or your wife think of anything else about any of those children or their mother, could you call me? I am staying at the Brown Palace.”

“That is quite the place isn’t it? I had a peek inside it once. Couldn’t afford to have a drink there myself. Is is as posh as it looks?”

“It is very pleasant and comfortable. You will call me, won’t you? My room is 304.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that we won’t think of anything else, but if we do, you can be sure we will call you. Or maybe the wife and I could stop over at the hotel to see you - have a drink with you or something. That would please the wife no end. She’s always wanted to know what it was like
inside.”

“Why don’t you come around for tea tomorrow afternoon at 3. They put on a splendid afternoon tea
here. Apparently it is just like it would be in England.”

“Okey-dokey. We'll see you tomorrow. Where should we go when we get there?”

“Well, let’s say that my mother-in-law and I will be waiting for you in the lounge right by the front door. Just ask for us at the desk as you come in. I look forward to seeing you then.”

“Boy, wait til I tell the wife about this! See you at 3 tomorrow. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye and thank you again.”

“Well,” I said stoutly when Kate gave me a quizzical look after I put down the phone, “what
else could I do? And they were really friendly. If nothing else they can tell us about my aunt’s husband and his cigars.”

We both laughed.

“We'll try that first number again tonight,” said Kate. “But for now, I think we should have a
light lunch, and then perhaps a rest.”

Our last few days had been so exciting and exhausting that no one could have guessed that I was a
lady with a terminal illness. But her common sense suggestion was what I needed - advice to make me take life a bit easier.